GGO: Casualties of War
by Mr. California
Summary: The very first time Sinon fired the Hecate in battle had been an awakening for her—one that would help shape her identity in the months to come. So when she loses her beloved rifle, she sets out on the impossible task of finding it, but what begins as a mere retrieval op soon becomes much more. They say that war touches all, but what about a war that was never real to begin with?


**Author's Note (2/6/14): **Greetings everybody, and thank you for deciding to read my fic!

As I'm sure most of you are already well aware, it was recently announced earlier this year that the _**Phantom** **Bullet**_ arc of SAO would finally be receiving its own anime. So, in order to celebrate this grand occasion, I decided that I would be releasing the first chapter of this fic much earlier than I had originally intended, and just like it says in the summary, we will be following the adventures of Sinon in GGO after the end of the Phantom Bullet arc and the Caliber side-story from the LNs.

Now obviously, if you're not familiar with _anything_ that I just mentioned above, then you should probably stop right now and read the LNs first (or at least watch the anime's second season, if that's been released already) before proceeding, as this story is meant to fit into the canon timeline after those events. And please bear in mind in later chapters that while this _does_ take place in GGO for the most part, it is also _NOT_ the same GGO from canon. Kawahara gave us very little to work with in terms of actual FPS game mechanics, and some of what he _did_ give us does not make much sense to me from my perspective as both a gun-nut and as an avid FPS-gamer. I will not go into detail here, but I have reworked and built from a scratch a game mechanics system that, I think, would fit very well into the world of GGO, and I hope you enjoy the end-result of that effort.

Also, as you read, please be aware that much of what is presented below is very much subject to change, both for (_very slight_) AU concerns and for reasons that are my own. But in the meantime, please enjoy what I've _actually_ written so far! :)

(Oh, and just to clear something up about my fic beforehand: **T****here are no pairings.**)

* * *

**Chapter 1.**

**_(Undisclosed location, Capraia, March 2026)_**

In war, the deadliest weapon on the battlefield is the sniper. Though unpopular as a class and often labelled cowards by friend and foe alike, the job of the lone sniper nonetheless has a certain mystique to it that attracts prospective players regardless, and those who stick with it often turn out as the most feared warriors out there—living specters that miss rarely and surrender never. Stealthy, intelligent, and skilled enough to take down point targets from distances far exceeding the maximum effective range of most modern assault rifles, they are the _ultimate_ long-range dealers of death.

That being said however, snipers are just as vulnerable as the average foot soldier, if not more so. Unlike a rifleman or a machine gunner who can engage at multiple distances, the sniper is a niche-specific class that specializes primarily in reconnaissance and terrorizing the enemy from afar with single, accurately placed shots. And it fulfills that role perfectly, at the cost of being able to adequately defend themselves up close. Take away their greatest advantage—range—and for all their skill and lethality, in the face of overwhelming firepower, the sniper will quickly find themselves left with only two options: retreat or death.

And this was exactly the kind of situation that Asada Shino—better known by her in-game moniker, «Sinon»—now faced.

Before her, a narrow dirt path surrounded on all sides by thick undergrowth and dense forest. This led to her next hideout, almost 20 kilometers out.

Behind her, a platoon-size element—a "Raid Group" in MMO terms—with what must have been forty-eight players total.

No... make that forty-_seven_ players. It had taken her about an hour of ducking between shadows and avoiding the odd mob hunting party along the outskirts of the wilderness before she finally managed to sneak into the ruins of a small, pseudo-European coastal town where the enemy had set up camp. From there, she had set up her pre-planned FFP (Final Firing Position) on the top floor of a tall, three-story apartment building that overlooked their campsite in the town plaza below and picked out one of the marksmen that the ragtag platoon had been using to track her movements. If his avatar was still around, it should have a nice round hole where his brain used to be—that meant one less 'high-value target' for her to worry about, and one less counter-sniper for them to use against her.

That had been less than ten minutes ago. Now, she was running for her life. Sure, GGO may be only a game and death was of no serious consequence—at worst, she'd lose some gear—but with the stakes as high as they were, death would certainly spell failure for her.

She couldn't stand failure.

More than that, she couldn't stand for what would _happen_ if she failed. There was a lot more on the line now than just a few items coded into the system. Even if she were to explain the situation to them—those cutthroat mercenaries hot on her tail—with a bounty of over 100 megacredits on her head, she doubted that they could stay their trigger-fingers long enough to actually _listen_ to what she had to say.

Money talks, after all, especially in this world.

"...Greedy bastards_..._" she muttered to herself, not for the first time.

The blood red sun was finally starting to crest below the ridgeline. Sinon counted herself lucky that she hadn't encountered anymore hostile mobs that could slow down her progress. At the same time however, that fact worried her greatly—it was too convenient, and Murphy's Law always chose the absolute _worst_ moment to strike, when you're nice and comfortable and everything seems to be going your way.

From her experience, most plans rarely survived first contact with the enemy and _never_ for this long, but if her luck continued to hold out like this—_Just until night falls,_ Sinon thought to herself—she won't have to rely on that dangerously fickle variable for much longer. After that point, everything that happened was all on her.

Night in GGO was mercilessly dark even by VRMMO standards, and dedicated night-vision devices could only help so much. If she played her cards right, she _should_ be able to lose her pursuers in the next few min—

—_Noise. Faint. Far left._

Ears pricked and on high alert, Sinon whipped her head around and narrowed her eyes into cat-like slits. She recognized that sound; even from this far out, it was too distinct to mistake it for anything else.

_Dogs... Of course they had dogs. Things can never just be easy for me, can it?_

She heaved a heavy sigh and kept running.

As far as tameable familiars went, dogs were far from the most powerful, and they _certainly_ weren't the most physically imposing when compared to the more unique mutant-type mobs wandering the countryside that could spit venom or had the ability to fly. But for all their apparent shortcomings however, the simple, lowly dog was not something you'd want to underestimate.

Fast, agile, lethal at close-range, and able to detect enemies long before their master had even brought his gun up, dogs were a tracker's best friend and one of the sniper's worst enemies. They were almost as bad as those annoying Tracers mages just _loved_ to send after her in ALO.

_At least they're not using «Pathfinders»_ _anymore._ She chuckled once to herself. _Must've taken out their last one back at Nionivek._

Coming up to a sharp bend on the left side of the road, she used her offhand to swipe open her inventory window. A few seconds later, a green rectangular block known as an «M18 Claymore» appeared in her hand. Turning the corner, she skid to a halt and looked for a suitable spot to place the curved antipersonnel mine—she decided on a small divot partially concealed by a fern—before unfolding the scissor-style legs and stabbing it into the dirt.

The barking was getting louder now, less than 500 meters and closing fast. Their owners would be within accurate rifle range soon—if they got visual on her now, she was as good as dead.

_'Tsk.'_

She quickened her pace, arming the blasting cap and stretching the razor-thin tripwire across the road before planting the attached spike into a nearby tree with a good stamp from her mud-caked boot heel.

The M18 Claymore, unlike traditional buried mines, was an aboveground directional mine that fired metal ball bearings in a wide arc upon detonation. In short, it was a single-use, portable shotgun blast—the perfect tool for ambush or perimeter defense—and with an effective lethal range of approximately 50 meters, it would definitely slow her pursuers down.

Sinon knew the foliage was far too dense for them to simply cut through the terrain and set up an ambush ahead of her; they _had_ to follow the path. At most it should kill two or three of them, but that was being a little too optimistic for her liking. Call her a pessimist—she preferred the term "realist"—but with those «Hounds of War» following them around, she doubted that that would be happening, anyway.

Kicking hard off the ground, Sinon continued to pound down the worn dirt and gravel path with her rifle bouncing against her back by the sling. As she began to rapidly pick up speed again thanks to her high AGI stat, she gave one last look at her handiwork and snorted ruefully.

A few months ago, she would've scoffed at the idea of using something as seemingly underhanded as booby traps because of her so-called "Sniper's Pride". Her philosophy had always been that if you couldn't trust a partner—or more importantly, _yourself_—with your own damn security, why would you entrust it to a flimsy piece of string? Coupled with the fact that she actually _wanted_ to see her targets before they were killed, it just never seemed to fit into her play style.

But that was then and this was now. A lot of things had changed about her, not just her attitude towards traps. She was a much different person from the Sinon from 9 months ago who couldn't tell you the barrel of a gun from the bolt, or even the Sinon from 3 months ago who _could_. And it all had started last year at the end of December, when she began the journey that got her into this mess to begin with.

* * *

_-Months ago-_

**_(Moonglass Inn, Durgrin, 20th Floor of New Aincrad, Alfheim, December 2025)_**

"Three cheers for Sinon!"

A shout sounded all around and reverberated against the inn walls as the lone group of adventurers (plus one dragon) clattered their mugs together, impossibly-colored liquids and froth sloshing around inside of the glasses and spilling out on the tabletop in a cascade.

Not that anyone cared—they just dissolved into particles as soon as they hit the surface, anyway.

"You guys didn't have to do all this, you know," said the blue-haired Cait Sith in question while nursing her glass of green... juice, coloring a little and shrinking with embarrassment at the applause. "It was really nothi—_ack!_"

"You call a free-falling shot with a «Retrieve Arrow» _nothing?_" interrupted the party's resident Salamander, quickly retreating just outside of claw range after slapping the wildcat archer on the back and tousling her hair. "Next thing you're going to tell us is that you used to pull off shots like that all the time in GGO."

Sinon fixed a sidelong glare at Klein, but that was the extent to which she showed her displeasure—somehow, she'd gotten used to his personality over the past couple of weeks. "No, nothing like that," she said, slowly turning her attention away from the samurai as he took his seat a safe distance away. "But I _have_ had to shoot from unstable firing positions a lot, and I've taken a few shots with Hecate from a moving helo. Nothing all that special, really."

"This coming from the girl who can double the maximum effective range of a longbow after a day of practice, it's hard to take your attempts at being humble seriously." There were murmurs of agreement and nods all around at Lyfa's observation. "If this was 'nothing' for you, I can't wait to see what you can do when we get Shekhinah."

Lisbeth made a_ 'pfft'_ sound with her lips. "Forget Shekhinah, get the girl a good dragon mount and a rider and not even _Kirito_ will be able to get close!"

"I think I'll keep my feet firmly planted on the ground from now on, thank you very much," Sinon said. She favored the Leprechaun with a wry smile. "Besides, aren't you the one that said _'aiming from over 100 meters away just isn't normal'?_"

Indeed, while it might not have been the exact same wording that she had used, Lisbeth had said something along similar lines to the sniper-turned-archer only a few hours ago. The Leprechaun could only force a smile in response to Sinon's teasing. "I swear, you can be worse than Kirito is when it comes to making me eat my own words..."

A laugh, then:

"Oi, speaking of Kiritard—," Klein noticed a majority of the female population at the table—essentially _everyone _except himself—blush furiously at the mere mention of the Black Swordsman. "—where _is_ our intrepid guest of honor?"

"Asuna-san isn't here either," Silica noted with a frown, her cat ears flattening as a sleeping Pina curled up into a tighter ball atop her head with a yawn. "Maybe they logged off already?"

"And didn't tell any of us?" Lisbeth pointed out. "The lovebirds are probably off testing his new toy on a Salamander raiding party. Besides, their status says they're both still online."

"That's probably the case, but why does it have to be 'Salamanders'?" Klein protested. "It could be—I don't know—_Imps_ for all we know."

"...As opposed to the most populous race in all of ALO," Lisbeth gave him a flat look. "Face it Klein, they're probably fighting Salamanders."

Sinon nodded, "Yeah, probably Salamanders."

Silica's hand shot up in the air like she was in class, "I think it's Salamanders!"

"It's Salamanders," Lyfa said with finality, switching her menu to public mode and rotating it around.

What came into view was a PM with Asuna listed as the sender in the top left corner. There was no text, however. Instead, there was a dramatic, high resolution close-up screenshot of Kirito bisecting a _Salamander_ mage with a heavily forested area as the backdrop. There were red wireframes and blood-like specks of data frozen in the air where Kirito had separated the player's upper torso from the rest of his body, sunlight gleaming brightly off of the golden blade held aloft in his right hand, tracing a faint trajectory line through the air from the sword's tip with the tell-tale bluish glow of a sword skill—probably «Slant»—as the Spriggan brought the legendary weapon up to bear to defend against an incoming fireball.

Klein's shoulders slumped forward at the sight. "C-couldn't help a brother out, could ya, Kirito?" he said to the image with a frown as Lyfa switched her menu back to the private setting and closed it. "You do all this crazy stuff in-game, and you just _had_ to be predictable this one time."

Lisbeth rolled her eyes at him and leaned back in her chair, mug in hand. "What do you have to complain about? You got an NPC's contact information—I didn't know you could even _do_ that!"

"Hey, you're just jealous that I'm going on a date later with Skuld-san, Ms. 'I-don't-have-a-boyfriend'!" the Salamander shot back defensively.

Lisbeth nearly choked on her drink. "Th-that's taking it too far!" she managed to sputter out as Klein ducked his head to avoid a piece of airborne glass tableware, which shattered against the wall behind him with a tinkling sound and a spray of polygons.

Sinon shook her head and chuckled softly at the exchange. It felt good, being able to spend time with friends like this.

'_Friends.'_

Heh, now that was a funny thought. A few months ago she would've barely been able to make claim to a single friend, much less upwards of _several_. And for someone like her, that difference was significant—after the incident with Endou and her cronies, she had found it very hard to put her trust in anyone too easily, without too much scrutinization, without looking for some kind of motive behind their 'kindness'.

It wasn't that Sinon disliked the idea of companionship—quite the opposite, in fact. While she _did_ enjoy her moments of solitude, that predictable, routine monotony where she could be left to her own devices without feeling the full weight of reality bearing down on her, there simply was no adequate replacement for a true friend—someone you could count on to have your back no matter what, and she had sought that out.

After all, for five long years, that same peaceful solitude that she had come to appreciate had become the reality of her situation.

And it had worn old on her. 'Solitude' had become 'loneliness'.

Sinon—or more accurately, her real self, Asada Shino—hadn't become a loner by choice. To put it lightly, her lack of friends had a lot to do with her rather—for lack of a better word—_unique_ situation. She couldn't relate to any of her classmates no matter how hard she tried, and nobody could be bothered to try and relate to _her_.

But part of it, also, was because she had been afraid. Afraid that if she befriended someone and let them get close to her, let them inside of the inner bubble that she had constructed for herself, that they would then discover that this 'innocent' young girl they had reached out to had once killed a man—shot him to death with his own gun. And unfortunately, Sinon knew full well from first-hand experience how a revelation like _that_ would turn out for her, and had resolved to never again risk the sting of betrayal—of rejection—that would come from opening up again.

"Oh that is _it_, Klein! Now you're asking for it!"

Needless to say, Sinon didn't keep that vow, and she was glad that she didn't. Being the stubborn person that she was, it was no small miracle when she broke that promise to herself six months ago on the same day she was officially introduced to the world of VR gaming. She was still a loner at heart—that part of her would never change, even if she wanted it to—but looking back now, Sinon had no doubt in her mind that she had come a long way from being the bitter self-isolationist that she used to be.

"Get the hell back here, I'm not done with you yet!"

"W-wait, stop! Can't we talk about this, Lisbe—_ohshit!_"

And yet, even though she was content with how things had turned out for her, she couldn't shake off the creeping feeling at the back of her mind that she was forgetting something. Something important. Like she had neglected to set both the locks on her door in a rare moment of forgetfulness.

Of course, it wasn't anything like that. Recent events had forced Sinon/Shino to take her security _far_ more seriously than usual, and she had made absolutely certain that her home was secure before logging in—she knew _exactly_ what it was that was bothering her and it nonetheless got her heart racing with anticipation. Her eyes flicked over to where the time was displayed in her HUD.

3:30 pm.

Yes, she still had time. Only a couple of hours have passed since that grand adventure ended. She was still a little tired, but Sinon nodded to herself in spite of her mental fatigue, affirming the decision in her mind.

For the first time in two weeks, the legendary «Sniper of Ice» would finally be returning to GGO—to the Wasteland nation of «Capraia», where it all began...

"Ack—! Uncle, uncle!"

"This is what you get, Klein! I _chose_ to be single, _do you hear me!?_"

"Lyfa, save _meeeee!_"

...If only to get away from the madness that seemed to follow her new friends like the plague, for a while.

Silica's ears flicked up and down with worry as Lyfa struggled in vain to pry Klein free from the absolutely _brutal_ armlock the pink-haired Leprechaun had pinned him down with. Had this area not been designated a safe zone, Klein would have no doubt been afflicted with the «crippled» status effect, judging from the unnatural angle his arm was bent in right now.

"Uh...Sinon-san?" she began hesitantly, "Shouldn't we—?"

"Let them work it out on their own, Silica-chan. Just let them work it out..."

* * *

*_CRUNCH*_

Meanwhile, two worlds away in the dusty sci-fi themed capital city of the Wasteland, «SBC Gurroken», a player wearing a black trenchcoat took a bite out of his candy bar as his free hand flew rapidly across the menu floating in front of him, his brown eyes flicking back and forth between the system window and the player standing across from him as he operated his UI. Already he was making plans for the massive amount of credits he'd accumulated by now—what he owed his employer, and what he'd keep for himself.

It was no big secret that, unlike other VRMMO on the market, there was a «Money Trading System» in Gun Gale Online that worked off a 100-to-1 conversion ratio as the basis. In fact, some people made it a point to play for the sole purpose of earning in-game currency to convert later into real money, turning "gaming"—for better or for worse—from a hobby into a job. These so-called «Pro» players would log in and play for hours on end, sometimes from early morning to well into the afternoon, acting very much like the classic cold-hearted mercenary.

All business.

They had to be—after all, the monthly fee to even _play_ the game clocked in at a painfully steep 3,000 yen.

Well known pros like the charismatic Bullet of Bullets regular Yamikaze and the gruff bodyguard-for-hire Behemoth even had their own internet fanbases, the latter of whom even had his own personal website to give details on and to promote his in-game security services.

However, not everyone had the luxury of experience or an established reputation to ride on like those two did. For the average player, farming mobs for experience and loot or taking on quests and scouring dungeons in search of that one rare piece of gear was a long, often tedious process. If you had brought some like-minded friends along for the ride, perhaps the latter _would_ be entertaining, considering the dramatic nature of many high-payout quests and the intensity of most end-dungeon boss battles. Unfortunately, the same could not be said about the former, when often the most exciting moment—short of being ambushed by an anti-personnel (PvP) squadron—would be the odd friendly fire incident from mind-numbingly bored squadmates wishing that _something_ would happen to alleviate the monotony.

Of course, there were always alternative methods...

"Have fun with your new avatar."

"Thanks, I will!"

The avatar dealer pocketed what must have been a whole month's worth of credits—all conveniently stored on a small, white plastic card—as the player before him disappeared, no doubt planning to log back in mere seconds later with a new face, and more importantly, a new inventory and a higher player level. It wasn't the most glamorous or exciting job ever, but it sure was _profitable_, and that was all that really mattered at the end of the day.

Even if the «Money Trading System» never existed in the first place or was removed the next day, the slim, wavy blonde haired player with a scar running across his left eye was confident that he wouldn't be without a job; his boss would see to that, mousy person that they were. After all, the buying and selling of accounts, much like information brokering, was a trade as old as MMO games themselves. Hell, sometimes the two even overlapped one another, thanks to the loose lips of his 'customers' and their identities.

There would _always_ be demand and there would _always_ be workarounds; the «system» just gave him some legitimacy, was all.

Strangely, the most desirable models of avatar on the market were the most feminine ones—the female F1300 type and the male M9000 type in particular, especially as of late with the (albeit bizarre) results of this December's «Bullet of Bullets».

The girls he could understand, but the _guys? _Sure, there was that slight psychological advantage of shock from seeing a pretty young "girl" barreling down on your position with pure killing intent in her eyes, assault rifle in hand and bullets whizzing and cracking all around. But then, if psychological warfare was your intention, you could get a similar result for much cheaper simply by painting your face in the caricature of a demon or some other monster. Maybe it was _because_ such avatars were so rare that people wanted them? Something like that. Come to think of it, he probably should have gotten that one M9000 player's contact information two weeks back, right before the BoB started...

The dealer took another bite out of his candy bar. He shrugged to himself and took his usual seat out on a shaded restaurant patio overlooking the twilight-dyed corridor known as «Memorial Hall», where both new players spawned in and where he was close enough to see where the "dead" ones respawned along Glockenspiel Street.

Most players, he thought, seemed to value aesthetics over function—at least the newer ones did, anyway, if only slightly more than the older players who _should_ know better. More than a few times he'd been in firefights with guys fully decked out in winter camouflage just outside the city limits.

The problem with that?

The nearest snow biome was about 100 kilometers away to the northwest, and the predominantly urbanized wasteland surrounding Gurroken was as close to a winter wonderland as he was to being a hermit.

It wasn't like he actually _cared_ that some players did stupid stuff like that; thinking _about_ the stupid stuff players did—including some stuff that he himself was guilty of doing at one point or another (and oh _boy_, was he guilty!)—just gave him something to pass the time with while he waited. Most players spawned in with the common—which to him translated to "useless"—M1500 avatar, the typical fresh-faced recruit, although the odd M1000 model would pop up from time to time...

As if on cue, a pillar of blue light flashed out of the corner of his vision, heralding the arrival of another player. He put his thoughts on the matter aside for the moment and went back into business mode.

He sighed. The avatar had spawned pretty far away, around were the «New Player» spawn ended and the one for «Death Returns» began on Glockenspiel—it was hard to tell where exactly. But whether or not the newcomer was a beginner he could possibly buy off of, or a hardened veteran returning from the field of battle would be determined in the next few seconds, anyway.

While the other restaurant-goers around him continued to eat their meals and exchange tales of adventure and heroism, the dealer tuned them out completely—a hearing-based outside system skill called «Distinguish» that his boss had taught him, though he didn't use it for its intended purpose of scouting—and focused solely on the quickly materializing avatar.

The first thing to look at—and was the first to materialize—was the footwear. If they were wearing sneakers, that usually meant they were newbies, although there were still a few AGI types from the old days that preferred such footwear for mobility and comfort.

Next were the clothes. If the player was wearing solid colors, especially bright, vibrant ones instead of camo, that was a dead giveaway, although it was harder to tell with the more subdued colors like OD green, black, and navy blue.

Then, of course, was the quality of the gear, any weapons, types of equipment, distinct features of certain models of avatar, etc.

Failing all of these methods, his final option was to simply wait for the avatar to generate, see if he recognized the player, and go from there. It was his least favorite method since it wasted valuable milliseconds to his competition, but sometimes he had no choice.

He bit into his candy bar again, his trained eyes homing in on the figure like a bird of prey, or more appropriately, a heat-seeking missile.

Touching down gently on the glass platform: a pair of combat boots, his first sign that this was at least a week-old player. Most newbies tended to shy away from boots in the beginning until they got a set of cammies; being hard to detect was far more valuable early on in a player's career than being able to scale a mountainside on foot.

As soon as he saw the rare «H&K MP7» submachine gun strapped to the player's left thigh, however, he realized that he had zero chance of buying this avatar. Normally at this point he'd move on to his next potential mark and forget about the player—at most he'd mark them as a "person of interest" if there was something particularly unusual about them, which didn't seem to be the case here so far. But still, he watched, for lack of anything better to do. Spawn traffic was unusually slow today for some reason.

He wolfed down the last of his chocolate bar, crumpling the wrapper into a ball and tossing it aside without a second thought. He didn't notice—and if he did, he didn't care—when one of the restaurant NPCs shot him a dirty look.

Next to materialize was an open button military jacket, worn over what was obviously a high quality, low-profile, bullet-resistant vest. Like the lower half of the uniform, the jacket was also in desert tan, while the vest had mainly a futuristic white-on-black color scheme. But what interested him most was the fact that both articles of clothing seemed rather... _small_.

He raised an eyebrow as he gulped down the last of the melted chocolate bar still in his mouth. The avatar had the physique of a child, yet it had high-leveled gear—a previous customer, perhaps? Now his curiosity was piqued.

The next item to materialize was—

—Was a dirty white muffler, with a single bold black line going through it.

He was already out of his seat and sprinting through the streets by the time the large skeletonized sniper rifle formed on the blue-haired girl's back.

*_BEEP!_*

"Hey, get the fuck off the road!"

"Sorry!" the dealer shouted over his shoulder without breaking step. He noted, somewhat idly, the gray-colored shield sigil pasted on the vehicle's side doors before it sped off...

* * *

Like so many times before, Sinon felt her toes touch down on the hard ground as gently as if she had glided down—a rather rare sensation to feel in this world otherwise, much unlike the fairy world she had left mere minutes ago. Once she felt her senses had synced up with her avatar's, her ears were immediately bombarded by a loud cacophony of sounds.

The kind that only a major city could produce.

Whether it was innocuous conversation between triumphant players just getting back from a mob hunting expedition, laughter between friends, or the obnoxious roar of gasoline-guzzling military vehicles rolling down the city's numerous criss-crossing roads and highways, the amount of noise was both overwhelming and unmistakable. As expected of GGO's capital city, «SBC Gurroken», but even so...

Keeping her eyes closed, Sinon took in a deep breath, filling her virtual lungs with the city's no doubt pollutant-laden air.

"_Hurk~!_"

She nearly gagged. It smelled of burnt petrol, dirt, and forgotten, rotting garbage.

Yup... This was _definitely_ Gurroken, alright...

Fighting down the unpleasant feeling in her gut, she opened her eyes, and what greeted Sinon's vision was a rather nostalgic sight for the long-time veteran. She was on «Memorial Hall», Gurroken's main thoroughfare for foot traffic and a place that she, like many others, had travelled quite frequently coming back from the wilderness. Without even looking, she knew behind her should be the «Crucible», a large domed structure where players who were either new to VRMMO or too lazy to read the manual were given a brief explanation of the game's mechanics and a rundown of important landmarks and locations—including, of course, where the nearest gun shops were located and where the Presidential Villa was.

A tutorial building, in other words, and a fairly bare-bones one at that; as the hub of all activity in the city, the facilities at the Presidential Villa handled the more advanced mechanics for convenience's sake.

All around her as far as the eye can see—which, admittedly, wasn't very far due to Gurroken's somewhat chaotic layout—was a sprawling city, seemingly composed entirely of midnight-black steel and thick glass panels forever marred by dark splotches of dirt and (at least what she thought was) unburnt gunpowder. The ground beneath her feet, likewise, was composed of the exact some materials that made up the tall skyscraper-like buildings towering all around her and was covered in much the same kind of muck.

Above her, innumerable holographic television screens streamed video of nearly every type of program you could imagine—from ads about a virtual knock-off of a real life soft drink, to the in-game news and livestream channels—filtering between and around the exterior of every building like the high-tech equivalents of clouds in a gentle breeze.

Most people would consider this place to be—no, it _was_ Gurroken's downtown commercial district. The form may be different here, but this was pretty much your typical overcrowded MMORPG market area.

"I missed this place..." Sinon looked around briefly with her hands on her hips and a slight, nearly indiscernible smile on her lips.

Gurroken might not have been the most pleasant city ever created using «The Seed» development package, per se—in fact, truth be told, she found the place to be downright _disgusting_. However, it was also a 'safe' place as familiar to her as her own small second-story apartment room, and it couldn't be denied that it captured the general feel of the post-apocalyptic world of GGO very well. From the get-go, you knew _exactly_ what you were getting yourself into, long before you even stepped foot outside of the city.

If it wasn't for the whole 'mutant-infested hellhole' and 'everyone trying to kill you' thing, Sinon thought to herself, she wouldn't mind living here if it were reality...

Maybe...

On second thought, no, scratch that—she _much_ preferred Tokyo. The legion of gun-toting mercenaries, thugs, and soldiers packing more heat than the damn _Sun_ was kind of a deal breaker. Sinon at least had the sense not to intimidate—or entice—every player within a 100 meter radius by keeping the almost 'longer-than-she-was-tall', beast of a sniper rifle that was her signature weapon safely tucked away inside of her inventory, along with the rest of her high-ranked combat gear.

Or at least, most of the time she did...

"Wha—?"

Sinon looked back in surprise as she felt something hard bump against her elbow. It was the polished wood grain stock of her «PGM Ultima Ratio Hecate II». The heavy 14 kg rifle itself was secured to her body by a simple green nylon sling, with each end of the sling attached to the fixing points machined onto her Hecate's stock and handguard. Looking over herself, she was decidedly less surprised to find that she was already dressed in her combat attire instead of her regular, baggy street clothes—combat vest and all. A look of confusion registered on Sinon's face before she realized—

"Oh, right... The Bullet of Bullets tournament. I didn't get a chance to change out."

Although she had answered her own question, another, more troubling one came to mind: Why was she on Memorial Hall?

She frowned as she wracked her brain for answers.

Regardless of whether or not a player was "killed" during the tournament, as soon as the event ended, all participants had their next spawn location set to the vast plaza in front of the presidential complex—the respawn point for _all_ players in GGO. Sinon could see the distinctive radar plate that marked the dark, spire-like building that she should have spawned in front of, and _that_ was a good three kilometers away from where she was currently standing. Unless something had changed while she was gone, she shouldn't even be remotely _near_ to where she was right now. So why, then...

"Sinon! Yo, Sinon!"

Before she could pursue that train of thought, however, she was brought back to reality by the voice of a player shouting behind her. She turned around and gave the blonde-haired man sprinting towards her a quizzical look as he slowed to a halt and doubled over with both hands on his knees, panting heavily. She sighed and mentally facepalmed at his last series of actions. Even though VR games were generally very realistic, no matter how much you ran, you could never actually get physically tired in-game—he was just being overdramatic.

"I'm sorry, but do I know you?" she said, eying the man warily.

Girl avatars, especially petite ones like hers, were rare in the male-dominated world of GGO, so 90% of the time a male player approached her was because he wanted to flirt—typically under either the guise of needing her help, or under the terribly mistaken self-delusion that _she_ needed _their_ help. Why you would hit on girls in what was quite possibly the least romantic VR game ever created was a mystery whose answer forever eluded her...

That aside, judging from his body language and the fact that he had called her by name, however, said that the trenchcoat-clad man standing before her was _probably_ of the seemingly slim percentage of people who actually knew what she was all about. And if not... Well, she found that many of her wannabe suitors responded _quite well_ when they were staring down the business end of an anti-materiel rifle.

"You don't know me," he said between big gulps of air, "But I know all 'bout you, Sinon." A breath. "Name's Takao, I'm sure you've heard of me." Another breath. "_Phew!_ Holy shit..."

The sniper furrowed her eyebrows. '_Who?'_ She tapped her chin thoughtfully while she searched her memory for the name. It sounded _a little _familiar, but...

Suddenly, after mere seconds, her face lit up and she snapped her fingers in an 'ah-ha!' moment.

"Ah! So you _have_ heard of me." Takao straightened himself up with a friendly smile as he said this, having apparently caught his non-existent breath. Much to his confusion, however, the girl shook her head in response. "Then... Why did you react like that?"

"Oh, I just remembered a friend of mine mentioning something about meeting some really creepy, shady-looking waifish dude the second he first logged in," Sinon replied humorlessly, listing off each wounding adjective on her fingertips. She closed her hand into a fist then pointed at him. "I'm guessing that that was you."

"I-Is that so..." Takao's straight-toothed smile faltered slightly at this and his eye twitched.

_Well, there goes my self-esteem for the day._

"Erm... _Any_way," he continued, clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure, "word has it that you haven't been on in a while—two weeks, I think? Everyone thought that that «Death Gun» guy had..." he stopped himself short. Then, "Anyway, a lot of us were worried about you. We even cancelled that party we had planned in advance at the—"

"Waitwaitwait—" Sinon waved her hands in front of her. "What did you just say?"

"That we cancelled that party—"

"No, I don't care about the damn party," she replied evenly. "What did you say _before_ that?"

"Uh... A lot of us were worried about you?"

Sinon blinked. "'Worried about me', huh?" she murmured, letting the words roll off her tongue. It was a strange feeling, knowing that complete strangers had been concerned for her wellbeing...

...And also a little touching...

...But mostly strange.

She shook her head. "Why?"

Now it was Takao's turn to blink. "E-excuse me?"

"_Why_ would you be worried about me? None of you know me personally, and I'm pretty sure I haven't said a kind word to anyone here since I first started playing this game. As far as you guys are concerned, there shouldn't be any reason for a single one of you to worry about me." She crossed her arms and gave him a challenging stare. "So I'll ask again: _why?_"

Takao felt himself shrink a little under her gaze. It was the kind of look that said that if he uttered the wrong word, he'd soon find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of a fifty caliber rifle. Needless to say, that was an experience he felt he could live without.

"E-even if they only know about you in-game, is it really so strange for someone to care whether you were alive or not? _Especially_ after all the weird stuff that's been happening? I mean, while you might not be the most—erm, _warm_ person to be around..." He said this last part slowly, making sure to word his answer carefully as he glanced furtively at the massive black gun barrel peeking over the girl's shoulder. "...there are a lot of people here that admire you for your strength and confidence. Even when you're under heavy machinegun fire, you still manage to keep a cool head when others would panic or give up. Heck, I think someone even established a fanclub in your honor..."

"A fanclub?" Sinon's expression softened from one of suspicion to one of surprise. "Wait, _seriously?_"

Takao nodded slowly, a little unsurely.

Sinon bowed her head and chuckled. "Now that's a first. I'm gone for a couple weeks, and when I get back I have my own fanclub. Never really thought that would ever happen, to be honest. So I guess I'm that popular now, huh?"

"Eh-heh, _not_ exactly..." Takao said, both thankful for and _very_ nervous about the sudden change in topic. Especially since it was about _this_ topic in particular. "I don't remember exactly what they were called, but they were formed only very recently—maybe a week at most since you left, but they've already got like 80 members. I even went to one of the recruitment rallies they had scheduled for this week, and, uhh... Even though they're not an official guild yet, let's just say if you see someone with a black and blue heart emblem anywhere on their BDUs, it'd probably be a good idea for you to go in the other direction _very very fast_."

Sinon frowned. "Why? Aren't they just a fanclub?"

_Oh, how I wish that were the case._

"It's just... Just trust me on this one, you _really_ don't want to know." Takao shivered involuntarily as he thought back to that day. He made a mental note to avoid Akihabara for the time being.

Sinon raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing more of it. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Look, I appreciate the warning and all, but unless you've got something _else_ important to tell me, if you don't mind, I've got some game time that I want to catch up on."

Arms still folded across her chest, Sinon looked up and gave him a smirk. It would've been a normal, even _friendly_ expression on anyone else. But coming from her, well... Takao could've been shot in the face with a 12-gauge at point-blank range, and he _still_ wouldn't be any more shellshocked than he was at that moment.

"We can't have people getting the idea that I've been dead this whole time like you said they did, right?" And without waiting for a response, the blue-haired sniper made to leave, her signature white muffler whipping behind her like a tail. Before she'd even made it five steps, however—

"A-actually, I think there _is_ something important I'm supposed to be telling you..."

She stopped and gave him a sidelong glance, eyebrow raised and waiting for an answer. And the answer she received was—

"...But it's slipped my mind."

—less than expected. The flat look Sinon gave him the next second said it all.

"Umm... Sorry about that."

"No, no. It's fine," she said, waving it off. "If it's important enough, it'll probably come back to you. Call me later when you actually _do_ remember, though. But until then, I've got to get going."

In all honesty, Sinon didn't really think what he intended to say was all that important if he _forgot about it_ to begin with. However, it was well known that she didn't tolerate bullshit either, so it was probably relevant to her in _some_ way.

And besides, call her crazy, but she was curious.

Pinching her index finger and thumb together, she swiped downward and brought up her menu—a green window that appeared and hovered at around shoulder-level. Next, she scrolled down to an option near the bottom of the screen labelled «Materialize Namecard», but a split-second before she pressed the button, she hesitated. Her finger just kind of... hovered there, not moving at all. After what felt like a minute, Sinon pulled back and clenched her hand into a fist. Then, finally, she pressed the confirmation button on the screen.

_Looks like I've still got some old habits left, huh. I'm going to have to work on that._

A transparent card listing her basic contact information materialized in her hand and she held it out to him...

And held it... And held it... And held it...

"Sooo..." she began when Takao didn't immediately take the outstretched plastic rectangle. "Are you going take the card or what?"

Takao looked at the card, then at Sinon, then back at the card, then back at her again. Then, "Sinon, are you feeling alright?"

"Huh?" That one-word reply was pretty much the only appropriate response she could come up with on short notice, followed by: "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, for one thing, your expression right now is something _other_ than a scowl—" The sniper glowered at him. "—and second of all, you're giving me your contact information. Seriously, what were you doing the whole time you were gone? Anger management classes? Therapy?"

_Oh, you have got to be_—

"Just take the damn card already!" she snapped. When the sniper felt the card leave her hand, she continued in a decidedly calmer, though no-less irritated tone of voice, "And to answer your question, not that it's any of your business—" Sinon shot him a pointed look and Takao scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "—let's just say that I've been busy with some real life obligations and leave it at that, _okay?_"

"R-Right." Takao nodded, having gotten the hint. She saw his gaze flick over to the left and up. A small frown—one that she almost didn't catch—appeared on his features before returning to his normal, semi-cheerful expression. "Well, I guess I'd better get going now, huh. But if you don't mind me asking, what are you going to do now? From what I hear, you split off from Dyne's group a couple days before you went AWOL."

Sinon furrowed her eyebrows. She was originally going to ask Takao what was troubling him—that much had been obvious by his expression—but that was none of her business, and she wasn't one to pry. More importantly, however, he had brought up a good point:

What _was_ she going to do?

You could feel the tension in the air evaporate a little as Sinon cupped her chin thoughtfully, her prior expression of annoyance gone for the moment. "Hmmm... You know, I haven't got a clue," she mused aloud. "I guess I'll take a break from PvP for a while and start doing some actual quests, for once..." She seemed to remember something and made a small 'tsk' sound with her tongue. "Oh, I'll probably have to stock up on ammo first, though. For a sniper, I shot quite a bit during the BoB and the prelims..."

"A break from PvP, you say?" He gave a short bark of amusement. "Heh, maybe I won't have to worry about having a 'light fifty' trained on my ass the moment I walk out of the city, after all."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I _am_ going to have to travel the roads for that quest, you know," she said with another, this time mischievous smirk. She chuckled softly at the horrified expression that came over Takao. "Don't worry, I'm just messing with you. Just make sure not to get on my bad side and you should be fine."

"I'll be sure not to," he said while breathing a sigh of relief. Then, "And, uh, don't take this the wrong way, but it feels _really_ weird seeing you giggle... Or smile... Or act even remotely like a girl..."

Sinon crossed her arms again with a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've got a feeling this is going to be a common theme throughout the day, isn't it...?" she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. She noticed a few passersby were giving them a wide berth and looking at her strangely. One glare later, and they were either looking straight ahead or suddenly finding the floor and sky very interesting.

"You have my sympathies," Takao replied, having also noticed the unwanted attention they were receiving. "Well, I guess I'd better get going now—for _real_ this time."

"Wait, aren't you going to give me your contact info?"

"Already have," he said cryptically as he ascended up a staircase wedged seemingly haphazardly in-between two nondescript apartment buildings, off to the right of the street. The blood red sun shining orange light into the alleyway, and the sudden draft of wind blowing in that made the ends of his cloak whip about him made the whole scene look like something ripped straight out of the end of an action movie.

Not that Sinon would've been able make the comparison.

"You might not remember," he continued, turning around and halting at the top of the stairs, his figure a silhouette with the sun gleaming behind him, "but I've probably already approached you about buying your avatar at one point or another. I give all of my, ah, 'potential customers' my namecard just in case they need my services in the future. So unless you deleted it, I should already be in your «Address Book»." He waved back at her one last time. "Ciao..."

Sinon followed the dealer's retreating form up until the point he disappeared around a corner. When he was gone, she shook her head and made her own way down the street.

"Idiot..." she muttered under her breath. If she remembered correctly, he had just walked into a dead end alleyway while trying to act all dramatic and mysterious.

She swiped open her system window again and accessed her address book as she weaved her way through the crowd. It didn't take long to find what she was looking for—sure enough, highlighted in large white lettering was the name 'Takao', along with a separate window on the side that listed his basic in-game information in small black text. Looks like he wasn't lying, but Sinon couldn't for the life of her remember when he had approached her about her avatar...

Whatever, it wasn't like she was going to lose any sleep over it.

As she was about to close the window, however, her eyes wandered down the pitifully short list of names that made up her address book—she could literally count up how many people were on there and still have fingers to spare. But of the literal handful of names that were listed, only one name caught her eye. One that she was all too familiar with. After all, its owner was the first one she had put on her friends list in all the months she had played GGO.

_'Spiegel.'_

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**Author's Note:** Oh yeah, and did I mention that this was my first fanfic? XD Anyways, hopefully the next time I see you guys, it's because Chapter 2 has been posted up...whenever that will be, but probably not very soon in any case. That aside, thanks for reading!

You know the drill: drop a 'like' and a 'favorite' by before you leave, and a review if you care to.

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**Special shout-out to my friend: Agent 94! If you guys get the chance, drop on by his page and read his fic "Aincraid: Retold". And review the _crap_ out of it!**

**Also a big thanks to Audiodelus and AKAAkira for beta'ing my fic for me, and to Gazdav, Dezmoonbear, and FestusFlare for answering all of my questions so far!**

**~See ya 'round!**


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